


A story about a boy

by xenia_che



Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Adult angst, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crossover Pairings, M/M, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 17:38:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19278187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenia_che/pseuds/xenia_che
Summary: Ah, it was indeed a perfect case of first (and only, if Anders had any say in it) love.





	A story about a boy

Do you want to hear a story? A story about a boy, who, of course, later turned into a man, got himself a job, a career, a flat, a pet (well, more like several pets, because even a fish can get lonely), a secretary and, as they say, a _reputation_ (in all the meanings one can attach to that wonderfully neutral word). That all happened later, but once he was just a boy.

A boy, who loved books, long stories (the ones that start one way and finish in totally another galaxy), late night snacks, running barefoot on the grass wet with dew and popping pink gum. Who could spend hours just lying on his back and staring into the night sky, looking for falling stars and connecting constellations with his chocolate dirty fingers.

A beautiful boy with golden curls, sun-kissed skin and those big blue eyes (with little golden speckles just around the pupil) that seemed innocent enough but when his parents weren’t looking, his eyes got this crafty glimmer that even the toughest girls and strictest grandmas found irresistible.

His name was Anders.

He wasn’t the only boy in the world, of course. He wasn’t even the only boy in his family (more so, he was one of four and not the eldest nor the youngest one). But he _was,_ as in, he did _exist_ even though his family sometimes acted as if he didn’t (sadly, more often than not). But Anders didn’t really care (well, he _did_ care but he always pretended otherwise), besides, boys usually prefer to act nonchalant about their family altogether, especially if said boys are thirteen and in love. And Anders, of course, _was_ in love.

Love...well, love can be different. Innocent and passionate, platonic and very much _not,_ unrequited and required. Andre’s first love (and, of course, if was his _first love_ because he refused to count Mrs. Polinski, baker’s wife, who used to bring Anders the most delicious gingerbread cookies with sprinkles and white chocolate when he was three, as such) was all of the above. And, at the same time, none. The only way Anders could really describe this whole thing would be: _complicated_.

His name was John.

He was rather old (in his twenties at least) and worked as a janitor in Anders’ school (hence the _complicated_ status). He was also a _guy_ , but, to be honest, Anders was more worried about him being a janitor then having different body parts from Mike’s _girlfriend_ (her name was _Sandra_ and, ugh, Anders _really_ didn’t like talking about it since the day he walked in on his brother, who had his laps full of a girl dressed in a way that definitely should be banished from existence).

John was _nice_.

That probably isn't the strongest (or the best) foundation for a life-lasting love (and that, of course, what Anders’ love was going to be like), but it was significant. To tell the truth, Anders hasn’t really met nice people before John (or maybe he has, but couldn’t remember it anymore). Anders’ family was many things but nice was never one of them (Mike did care at some point until the day he didn’t, and Ty was clingy and useless, and Axl was a toothless baby, and remember, Anders didn’t like talking about it).

But _John_ was nice.

He had curly hair, hazel eyes with traces of sunshine in them and that wonderful lilt that made Anders think of green hills and freshly brewed beer (he’s never tried one, but the correlation felt right for some reason). And when John smiled (always so brightly) Anders got this funny feeling in his stomach as if hundreds of butterflies were fluttering their little colorful wings. Ah, it was indeed a perfect case of first (and only, if Anders had any say in it) love.

(Spoilers: Anders didn’t have any say in it.)

They had a relationship. Not _the_ relationship, of course, but they did relate to one another. Anders would finish his classes and stay to watch football practice (and pretend to be doing his homework) and then he would sneak back to school and slip into janitor’s office, where John, who would just finish cleaning the first floor and stop to have a little break, would beam at him and share his apple pie (the one didn’t like but for some reason kept making). Anders would tell about his day and John would tell about his, and sometimes he would ruffle Anders’ hair if Anders sounded particularly upset. And on other days John would wink and give Anders his walkmen to check out new songs, and Anders would get his fair share of butterflies when John’s fingers would accidentally brush his. It didn’t happen everyday (John did need days off to do some meaningless stuff that Anders didn’t really care about), but when it did, Anders would afterwards go to the yard of an old house down the street from his home and lie there on the grass for at least an hour, looking at the darkening sky and trying to hide this stupid happy smile that streched his lips against his better judgment.

Anders was happy.

Until the day he wasn’t.

John left. Just disappeared as if he didn’t really exist in the first place. Oh no, he did file some, well, files, and informed school about his decision to move on, try his hand at something else, he wasn’t going to be a janitor his whole life, blah-blah-blah. He just never told Anders. Or maybe he did, but whenever John was around, Anders had the worst case of attention disorder (and the best case of first love because that’s exactly how this thing works). The point is, Anders didn’t know. And John just left.

It didn’t kill Anders per se (he did cry, and then Ty saw it and tried to hug him, and then Axl came and started crying too, and eventually it turned into such a mess, that Anders swore to never cry again), but it did change him a little bit. A tiny winy little bit.

And then his father left.

And then his mother left.

And then his...well, Mike left.

And, oh boy, if a grown up Anders would ever go to a therapist, it would be a textbook case of abandonment issues and trust issues, and many-many other issues that started to form long before a cute janitor ran away instead of molesting young Anders the way Anders would prefer.

Then, of course, life happened.

And _Bragi_ happened.

And all of a sudden Anders was thirty, with a baby _Odin_ on his hands, a quest to deal with, Mike to stay away from, Ty to patronize, fishes to feed, a secretary to hide from and a business to run. And it felt as if those glorious years (filled with vodka, warm folds of women bodies, strangers’ ceilings, crumbled sheets and hammering hangovers) between his twenty-first birthday and _now_ didn’t happen (it’s for the good, of course, but Anders would never admit it).

But there was one problem: Anders wasn’t a family man.

(You can’t exactly be a family man without an actual _family,_ as it turns out.)

He did good. _Good_ good. If Anders had a therapist, they would be very proud of him (though his bill might’ve doubled after that). But there was Mike with whom Anders didn’t really - well, let’s say, get along (long story); Mike’s Michell, with whom Anders could’ve gotten along if she hadn’t been, well, _Mike’s_ ; Ty, whom Anders maybe even loved, but couldn’t be around for a long period of time, because even the best of men would fade in comparison with a fucking Disney Princess that Ty sometimes acted like (and Anders was definitely not the best of men); and Axl, who mildly irritated Anders all the time (even when he wasn’t around) because he was everything Anders wasn’t (and not only in the good way).

So, Anders did good. Tried to do good. And sometimes just rolled his eyes and did something, that could’ve been good (or bad), but was outshone by one of his brother’s fuckups.

Until the day it got too much.

Mike said something (like he always did). Anders retorted (like he always did). Axl threw a tantrum. Ty threw in a towel. Grandpa Olaf stole a bottle from behind the counter while no one was looking and just threw up, because it was absinthe and he drank it like water (like he always did).

And Anders suddenly had enough.

So he stormed out of the Mike’s bar and, after a short pause, he hailed a taxi and drove to a regular bar (with blondes and redheads and cute brunettes scattered all over the place) where they actually froze their shot glasses before pouring vodka in them.

But the first thing Anders saw, when he stormed into the bar (his crovate aslant and his blue eyes stormy), was the pile of black curls on not-at-all-girl’s head. And then he saw the hazel eyes with traces of sunshine. And then, of course, Anders couldn’t breath because, apparently, your first (and only) love doesn’t get along with air in your lungs (Anders always suspected that people are not meant to have everything they want, and if he had still been thirteen he’d choose love over everything, but right now the air seemed like a greater necessity).   

“Are you alright, mate?”

Ah, and now Anders was almost drowning in the greenness of Irish hills and (since these days Anders knew the taste for sure) in the freshly brewed beer.

“So _not_ alright.”

(Spoilers: he will be.)

Mitchell. He was so young (in his twenties at most) and worked as a waiter in a bar two streets from Anders’ apartment. He was also a _guy_ , the fact that bothered Anders more than he was showing (when your first love gets away, you either spend all your life chasing after it or running away from it, and Anders chose the latter). But it hardly mattered in the end.

(Spoilers: or ever.)

“I think, I know you.”

“I know, I think you too.”

Anders kissed him before they got their first round.

(Spoilers: he tasted of freshly brewed beer and apple pie.)

(More spoilers: Mitchell tried to leave again in the morning. And in a month. And in a year.)

(Even more spoilers: Anders didn’t let him.)

And they lived happily ever after. Though with much more sex, fights, blood and _Bragi_ ’s inappropriate remarks, than your avarage Disney princess (or Ty, even when he married his first wife).

Anders was happy indeed.


End file.
